My first boyfriend

My first boyfriend was in fourth grade. His name was Charley Ganster. He had blonde hair and a really cute smile which revealed two big dimples. He lived back Crukshank Road, near my house...My memories of Charley Ganster are still strong. He lived in a much nicer house than I. He even had a swimming pool...In my eyes, only really wealthy people had cement swimming pools...with a diving board, no less. The winter of my fourth grade our school had a dance. Charley asked me to go...the winters in the 50's were gruesome. The township road equipment was not at all like it is today. Plows only came out when there was 12" or more...and sometimes they put cinders on the roads but bascially...you were on your own...People were stuck at every turn, chains came out and bull ropes were in everyones trunk. Everything you might need for rescuing vehicles that found their way into the ditch. I specifically remember that night of the dance. Charley's family had someone that worked for them and he brought Charley to pick me up and drive us to the school. My road had a very steep hill after crossing the creek. If anyone had any hopes of getting to the top in snow they needed to make a run for it when you made the crossing at the bridge. Most everyone would spin and swerve the entire way up...Usually, someone turned sideways and ended up in the ditch that supported hard spring rains. Charley and I sat in the back seat. He had his arm around me. The sky had a dark gloom filled with large, soft white flakes. The air, so cold, the windows were steamed up inside. With the windshield wipers on high..they made a loud slapping noise as they fell down scooping the fresh flakes from the window glass. I felt the car speed up and make a run for the hill. We sat still gritting our teeth, wondering if we were going to make the grade. Spinning and swerving...from side to side...finally we came to a stop. The driver turned to back down the road..and tried again. On our way backing down, we turned sideways and the car slid out of control...down the hill...we finally got stopped and he tried again to make the hill...without any success. The driver turned to let us know, we would have to walk the rest of the way. I was freezing and so was Charley..the snow laid on our eyelashes we scurried up the hill....both scared and knew the walk would be a long one. I felt so bad for Charley, he had to walk me home and then he had to walk all the way back to the car...have frozen..He kissed my cheek and waved goodbye. I guess they got home, I don't remember that...I do know that later that year..Charley and his family moved away to another state. I thought he would be my boyfriend forever...Funny how when you are in fourth grade your expectations are in your small circle of what you know as life. You never think anything will ever change. What you don't realize that, this is just the beginning of things and people that sear their way into your memory...as well as the beginning of a lifelong trend...CHANGE!!

A Memorial Day to Remember

After moving to the country...we had to make all new friends. Our old life was left behind. We were miles away for visits from old neighbors. School was the place to start. I rode the bus on my way to school and during the first year I made my share of friends. I have always been very personable and had no quams talking openly to everyone. I was friendly and interested in everyones life. I now know, that God placed that gift into me when I was born. He gave me a strange sense of personality. I got to know everyone on the street visited them regularly. Some of them weren't too willing to have me for a friend, but most welcomed me and and we visited. I wanted to be a part of those people that lived near to me. That included the kids in my neighborhood. Being a tomboy and having an out house filled with bugs and spiders, I learned quickly to fear not. When I was 4 or 5 I ate earth worms..( they just taste like grittty dirt.) Now I was challenged to be likable to those around me. On Memorial Day weekend..spring had come and I spend most everyday outside. There were many things to do and places to go. I was new and I wanted to blend in..My neighbor Kathy Ritter lived at the top of the hill on Steiner Bridge Road. I rode the bus with her. She was 2 years older than me and I wanted to impress her. Why and when the bet came to pass, I don't recall...but at some point she dared me to rub poison ivy all over me. My father was not allergic to it, and perhaps I bragged that he could rub it all over him and he would not get it...for whatever reason..I took the dare and rub the new spring leaves of poison over my exposed skin. Within a few days I was covered with the red, seeping rash of poison over my body. In my eyes, down my throat, in my private parts...EVERYWHERE!! As the holiday presented itself. I was completely swallowed up with the poison. My parents had to find a doctor some place that was open on a holiday and they took me to get a shot..I was in misery. I have never itched so much in my entire life, except one time in my 50's when I got the hives, but that is another story...From that day on..I had alot of respect for that little green plant. Now, I find that I too am not allergic to it anymore. I imagine I had such an overdose of the poison in my blood. I have an immunity to it...????I don't know, but I still respect the power of that small, green, three leaved plant..that sits so innocently under the shade of that beautiful woodsy tree.

Country Girls Now

Now we are officially moved. We have water pumped up from the ground. We have electric paid for by a barter. A barter made by my father and the man we purchased the land from. We have sewage...not the way most people think of sewage but for us it was all we needed. I know now most of us live our lives so over the top. We can survive on so little and still be happy. We really don't need all those things we think we must have or must buy. All of our clothes were hand me downs from cousins or people that knew we were living in hard times. We yelled and jumped up and down thrilled when a garbage bag full of clothes showed up. We anxiously rummaged through it, picking out what would fit us..and what didn't fit, we made it fit. We rolled the waistlines, or cut the bottoms off. We became very inventive when it came to wardrobe exclusives. It was fun, as well as a necessary. We dressed as well as everyone else. We were clean, we didn't smell bad. Our hair was clean and combed. We were thankful for what we had. We carried water from the pump by the bucketsful. We heated it on the bottle gas stove. We bathed in a tiny metal square sink. We washed and shampooed our hair. Somehow it all worked. We finally realized we had each other and we were alive. Our lives meant something and we had to work to make it better. At night we used a little white potty with a lid. It was carried to the out house by a metal swinging handle. The black wooden handle at the top gave way to a sturdy trip. The outhouse sported two round shaped holes covered with a seat. It sat over a huge dug dirt hole built up on a wooden throne. Toilet paper that usually was taken over by the field mice needing a nest. Spiders in the corners that were safely out of the weather and served as mosquito and fly eaters. It all seemed perfectly normal. We as children didn't relize we were the only people on our street living like squatters but we didn't care, we were fine. We had each other. My mother and father often would shout and argue over our finances. I would hide my head under my pillow and promise when I got big, I would never fight, NEVER. Especially about money. I can say to this day and being married to my husband Ron, we never had even one fight over money...Never a disagreement about funds. We discovered a way we could support one another with what we had and I was free from hiding under my pillow..The promise I made to myself was kept throughout our marriage of 19 years....Soon summer was over and we were settled. We were ready to start school. I would go to Middlesex Twp Grade School. I was in the fouth grade. My teacher, Mrs. Painter was kind, mature and life began anew.

My move to the country

It was the summer of third grade. I had finally finished school for the summer. My father now in trouble with his radio and TV businesses. The IRS forced him to declare bankruptcy and closed his remaining stores. Of course being a kid, we didn't know anything about this..all we knew is that we were moving..away from the city. We were moving to the country. Middlesex Twp. to be exact. During that summer my father purchase a few acres of land with the few thousands of dollars he had left to his name. I remember when we went out to look at the parcel of land. My father made some sort of a deal that he could buy the property from a man that needed some wiring done in some houses..so I think they traded land for labor. However, we accomplished being country bumpkins during that summer. As soon as the school year ended we would trek up to the property and work all day, clearing and cutting brush. We did it all by hand, built a big fire and cut and dragged briar bushes; what seemed like for months..Every day, we drove up Route 8 to Middlesex Twp and worked on our land in Cooperstown. We all were a part of this effort. I was a tom boy so it was fun for me..I enjoyed getting dirty and smelly. I enjoyed the smell of the wood in my hair...we fell fast asleep in the old Dodge panel truck adorned with signs of "Curry Radio and Television" painted on the sides. Some nights I think we didn't come home, we just passed out after having something to eat and fell into a deep sleep til morning than began again. Eventually we got it cleared. Somehow a drive way was dug to pull our old blue trailer in from the West Mifflin trailer park. The truth be know, we looked like a band of gypsies..moving into the wild west. I remember my father discussing the price of putting an electric pole in and having a well dug...any price would have been to much. I think the well driller was Kaufold. He had this old rusty water drill and I am sure my father explained our situation and got some sort of barter thing going with them. I know my parents borrowed and begged money from people that would help us. My parents always very private of funds and things of that nature, we would never know how any of that came about!! But eventually we did have an electric pole placed in right near the driveway of dirt...and moving day came some time that summer. I don't recall how or who dragged the trailer up there..I would now love to know so many things I didn't learn while my parents were still alive and now will never find out. The three of us Carole, Georgetta and myself were now country girls..coming from the city. We were up for many new and exciting years ahead. Survival is something you do, and we were about to start doing it!!..Things were about to get TOUGH!!